For Patria
by SomewhatRevolutionary
Summary: In which Enjolras and Grantaire have a brief discussion while waiting for Marius to get to the cafe. "A drunken man speaks sober thoughts."


Enjolras cast his eyes up to the deep blue sky above, his feet planted firmly upon the dirty cobblestone ground. The sounds of children's laughter rung out crisp and clear, causing a small smile to curl his lips upwards. Averting his eyes, he nodded to the man next to him, taking a small step forward.  
They weaved through the crowds easily, perfectly used to the hustle and bustle that filled the streets of France on a warm afternoon such as this. Around them, beggars extended shaky, filthy hands towards them, their eyes pleading for mercy. Chewing his lower lip, Enjolras kept his attention ahead, knowing that he couldn't supply for all of the people.  
There were just too many of them.  
Poverty littered the streets, as common as rats in the sewer system. Their bodies feeble and their stomachs empty, they clawed at passerbys and often took advantage of the rich who would stroll through town in their carriages. If only he could supply them each with a warm home and fresh bread...  
If only.  
Opening the door to the Café, Enjolras stepped back, allowing Grantaire to enter before him. For a moment, Enjolras swept his eyes over the other man, taking in the shock of black, disheveled curls atop his head. He ran his hand through his own, well-groomed locks, letting out a quiet sigh.  
Empty. The silence that met the two men was eerie; Enjolras felt a shiver run down his spine. It was like a tomb. Though death had never scared him, he found that silence tore at his soul and sent an ice-pick of fear shooting through his body. Silence was the sound after the final bullet had been shot. Silence was the sound a man made when he could no longer make any other noise. Silence was when all the souls had been ripped from Patria.  
Silence was the sound he feared the most.  
"Typical Marius. Late as usual." Grantaire said, breaking into Enjolras' thoughts. He smiled slightly, sitting down at a table, his hands clasped together before him.  
"Shall we wait for him then? Before we get drinks?"  
"You want me to postpone my drinking for that fool?" Grantaire demanded, taken aback.  
Enjolras chuckled, "he is not a fool. He is one of our men."  
"One of our men indeed. He thinks with his heart and not with his head."  
"And do you not do the same when you chose to pledge loyalty to me despite the risky actions that I request of you?"  
Grantaire grumbled slightly, "That's different. I'm normally drunk when I agree to your plans."  
Enjolras nodded, keeping his blue-green eyes locked on Grantaire, "something is coming for us. I can feel it as if its shaking the ground and hanging over us in the air. Something is about to happen; though I don't know what, I feel as if it is an opportunity."  
"Opportunity? For what?"  
"To save the people. To fight for Patria."  
"You talk of her as if she is a real person."  
"Is she not?" Enjolras paused, standing up and clasping his hands together behind his back. His boots clicked against the floor quietly as he paced back and forth for a moment. All the while, Grantaire kept his icy blue eyes on the man, admiring his authoratative stature.  
Finally, Enjolras cleared his throat, "I do not expect you to follow me this time, Grantaire. Perhaps it is good that I have caught you in a sober state of mind. You do not have to fall under my command this time. I plan to fight. To rally the people and live - or die - in the name of Patria."  
Grantaire stood, clasping his hand on Enjolras' strong shoulder, licking his lips before he spoke, "the thing about a drunken man.. He speaks only sober thoughts. Thoughts that he otherwise would be too afraid to say. I stand beside you not because I am a wasted imbicile; but because if I do not stand with you, then I don't stand with anyone. It seems to me that we all have our time to live and our time to die. Living by your side has been a pleasure; it would be an even greater one to die by your side, fighting for your dear Patria."  
Enjolras smiled, peering into the gratitude and honesty that shone within Grantaire's eyes. He held his hand out between them, nodding as Grantaire met it with his own hand.  
Hand in hand they stood; hand in hand they would fall.  
They would fall for Patria.


End file.
